


Let’s Do This

by waywardjoy (CNK80Q3demoneyes)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Confusion, F/M, scared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 12:11:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12748056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CNK80Q3demoneyes/pseuds/waywardjoy
Summary: After a hunt, things get pretty confusing for the reader.  Thankfully she’s got someone to help her understand.





	Let’s Do This

“Let's do this.” Dean headed inside. Shotgun loaded with salt at the ready. It was just a simple salt and burn, but after weeks of nothing, Dean was all too happy to take down Casper the not so friendly house ghost. 

The ancestral farm of Obadiah Nix had fallen into disrepair as the ghost of ol Obi had scared off or eliminated all of its attempted inhabitants.

Obadiah himself had been murdered by cattle rustlers in order to steal his meager 50 head of cattle. The ghost had spent the last century ensuring there wouldn’t be a repeat. In doing so, old man Nix had murdered at least a dozen people himself.

Fortunately for the hunting trio, they quickly discovered that the farmer had been buried under his favorite oak tree at the back of the ranch property. Armed with shovels and salt rounds they put the good ol boy to rest without so much as a scratch amongst them.

“Well that had to have been the easiest hunt we’ve had in-”

“Ever.” Sam finished for his brother.

“Hey! Don’t jinx us guys!” Y/N chastised. “You know that’s going to bite us in the ass later.”

Leaning on the trunk of the impala, they brought their beers together in salute to a job easily done.

***

 

She woke with a gasp. Nightmares weren’t new to her. The life she led was full of them. Feeling unnerved, she looked around the dark room, realizing she was alone. She didn't recognize the hotel room. It’s simple, plain, exceptionally clean decor wasn’t Dean’s usual choice for the night. But seeing Dean’s jacket on the back of a nearby chair put her at ease. 

She shuffled her way groggily into the small bathroom. Turning on the tap, she looked at her reflection in the tiny mirror. Her face pale and drawn. She looked and felt as if she needed to sleep for another twenty hours. As she turned to leave the room the lights flickered. Tapping the switch to right the electric current, she looked over her shoulder to check the light fixture and froze. A thick white puff of breath formed before her. Cold shivers ran down her arms. 

She launched herself toward the bed in search of the gun she knew she kept under her pillow. Panic began to set in as she came up empty. A frantic search of the room revealed the same. Empty. She had no weapons and no way to defend herself. 

Flight instinct kicking in, she flung open the door to escape only to be stopped by strong familiar hands.

“Hey, what's the matter?” He soothed as she clung to him, terrified. 

“The ghost. Dean, we didn’t destroy it. It’s here!” She pulled back to see his face better. “Where are we anyway? Cause if it isn’t Farmer Nix, then this hotel is haunted!” Her fear and agitation were quickly getting the best of her.

“What happened?” Dean held her tight waiting for her to explain.

“In th-the bathroom. The lights flickered and it was so cold. My gun- where’s my gun?!” She took a sobbing deep breath. She wasn’t sure why this particular ghost frightened her so much. 

His smile was patient, “It's not haunted. You don’t need weapons here.”

“What? No. Of course we do! We need salt rounds and iron and- and-”

“Let it go darlin. There are no ghosts here. You're safe. I promise.” His hands rubbed soothingly down her arms.

“But Dean-”

His hands stilled and gripped. His face turned colder. Frustration coloring his tone. “No. Y/N, I said let it go. There's nothing here.” 

“Dean,” she pulled herself free from his grasp. “I really think we should look into this. Where's your EMF meter?”

He huffed, “Please just stop. I can't-” and covered his face with his hands. 

“You can't what? Hunt? Dean what is going on here? You're scaring me.” She took a step back, away from him as he lowered his hands. She couldn’t read his expression. He looked -sad? 

“There's no ghosts here, because ghosts aren't real.”

She laughed humorlessly waiting for the punch line.

He continued, “and I am not Dean.”

“What? No!” She backed further away, terrified. “Sh-sh-shapeshifter! No. Help!”

She turned to run only to hit a wall. Strong arms and a familiar scent enveloped her. Feeling instantly safe, she looked up to see another familiar face. 

“Oh Sammy! Thank Chuck! That's not your brother!” She raises a shaky finger in Dean’s direction. 

Cradling her to his chest, her savior spoke to the other man. “Hey man. Why don't you go take a walk. I got her. “

“I-I-I don't think I can handle this. I can’t do this again.” Tears welled in his bottle-green eyes as he ran a trembling hand over his face. 

“That's why I am here. Go, get some coffee and fresh air for a while. We’ll be ok.”

“Yeah, ok. Thanks man.” Pleading for understanding, green eyes glanced longingly toward her one last time as he quietly stepped out of the room. 

“Sam, what's going on? I am so confused. That wasn't Dean?”

“I am so sorry, Y/N. You’re right, that wasn't Dean. But if you'll let me, I'd like to explain. “

***

 

“So, is it true? What Sa- I mean what he said, it's true?” 

“Yes.” His voice was so sad. It nearly broke her heart in that one syllable. 

She stared across the table into the exact verdant gaze she had always known and loved, yet seemed so impossibly different. “Ghosts, monsters, hunting, none of its real?”

He simply nodded. Waiting. 

“And you- you're not Dean. You're Jensen.” She looked down at her hands, finally seeing the ring there, as well as a hospital bracelet. 

“Yes.”

“H-How long? I mean until-“ 

“They don't know.” His voice sounded wrecked. He took her hand to comfort himself. “It came on so suddenly. Th-The brain tumor, it's aggressive. Surgery isn't an option. You didn’t want drastic measures.”

“Sa-Jared said that I- that I keep reliving a TV show?”

“Yes, the um, the final episode that we filmed before you got- you got-.”

“Sick.”

He just stared. Unsure and unable to say anything else. Eternal silence enveloped the room as her hand slipped out from under his on the table. Her gaze drifted just to the left of actually looking at him. Vacant.

He dared to hope. Maybe this time. “Come back to me.”

He waited, eons before she looked at him again. Disoriented, she did as he asked. Allowing her hand to be held once again. The rest came back, slowly. 

Her small voice startled them both. “God…” Fear crumpled them at the edges. “What’s happening to me?” 

“Y/N? Are you back with me?”

She tried to shake the confusion from her head. “Take me home.”

“I don’t- This place is the best hospice care money can buy.”

“Please, De-Jensen. I don't want to spend my final days in a hospital reliving a horror story. Please.”

He tried to hide the hurt and fear that the name slip had caused. “Are- are you sure that's what you want?.”

“It is.” She reached across the table, taking his trembling fingers in her own. “I may not be able to remember your name properly, but I do know that I love you. I know that I just want to spend whatever time I have left, with you. Please.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He stood and stepped around the table to embrace her frail form. Cradling her head to his chest, he kissed her hair. “Let’s do this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading y’all!!


End file.
